


When Nightmares Come

by Dangerously_Demonic



Series: Finding a New Life [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst and Feels, CLAYTONMOTHERFUCKINGYES, ClaytonNo, Death Wish, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Infinity Wars AU, M/M, Minor Spoilers, rp stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-05-04 00:41:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14581167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dangerously_Demonic/pseuds/Dangerously_Demonic
Summary: The war drags on, countless already dead, and while this was expected...A greatly personal one prompts Clayton to pull away from it all.He never did handle loss very well.





	1. Who Needs the Light?

**Author's Note:**

> As of this writing, I haven't seen Infinity Wars. I have absolutely no idea if there's anything in it that could be construed as movie spoilers and this is mostly written based off of knowledge of what occurs in the comics. This is basically written as "backstory" for a RP I have going on to fill in the gaps.
> 
> In short, read at your own risk.
> 
> 5/14/18: Saw Infinity Wars; felt personally attacked...Was also surprised how accurate I was.

_..I will, I promise..._

There were so many fighters and for each one Xena took out, five more replaced it. The anxiety in Clayton’s chest tightened, even with the AI on the weapons. While he prided himself with his skills at the guns, he had no hope against the pinpoint accuracy of weapons commanded by a computer. So, he focused on piloting and attempted to weave a path through the fighters that would keep them intact…But he was running out of time.

_Clayton! Where are you? I can’t hide much longer._

_I’m trying! There’s too many fighters. Just hold on. I’ll get there, I **promise**_.

He cranked the ship on its side and weaved a reckless path through the asteroids, using the remains of an ancient planet to his advantage. Behind him, several more fighters exploded. He wasn’t sure if it was because they collided with something or if Xena had taken them out.

_They found me! I need to—_

He didn’t have a chance to respond before he was hit with a brief instant of fear and agony before it cut off in a flash of mental static. Clayton clutched the edge of one of the control panels to keep himself upright and struggled to breath while he mentally reached back out to Loki.

_Loki? Loki?!_

Around the ship, the asteroids disintegrated as a gigantic, intimidating ship suddenly loomed in front of him. Xena was screaming something about them being targeted, and he could only watch as the ship fired.

Clayton spasmed with a sharp inhale and laid there while he waited for the pain in his chest to stop from how hard his heart was pounding. He could feel the beads of sweat rolling down his back and he slowly uncoiled his tail from around his leg. After a moment longer, he tossed off the covers and got up to go wash his face in the bathroom. Initially, he nearly fell in the floor thanks in part to his completely numbed out leg. Once the feeling had passed, he pushed himself up to his feet.

As he moved around, the lights in the room came on dimly; bright enough to see, but not so much to blind him. The echoes of the pain Loki felt seconds before he died still bounced around Clayton’s mind. He moved into the main part of the ship and slowly walked to the front where the helm control area was located. The claws on his feet clicked softly on the metal flooring as he walked; the sound loud in the otherwise silent ship. They were in orbit over some planet after he had gotten supplies yesterday.

“You only slept four hours.”

The sound of the AI’s voice caused him to jump, the adrenaline from his nightmare still fresh in his system. He sighed and ran his hand through his hair, careful not to claw his scalp; he really needed to trim his claws. Right now, he was barely able to gather the energy to do anything besides the most basic of self care.

“I can’t sleep. I keep dreaming about…” He just shook his head, not even wanting to say it.

“This isn’t good for you. I know you can run on little sleep and have been doing so since I’ve known you, but this isn’t healthy…Even for you. It’s going to end up killing you.” Good ole Xena. Always trying to look out for him.

“Maybe that’s what I want.” He knew she only had his best interests in mind and were it any other time, he’d certainly appreciate it…But he still felt defensive when he was presented with the truth.

“And let Thanos win? Are you seriously just going to roll over and take this?”

As she spoke, he meandered back into the kitchen area and started making his coffee. Still sitting by the coffeemaker, gathering dust, was Loki’s cup. The man had been more of a tea drinker but had insisted on a custom cup. So, Clayton had gotten him a mug that read ‘You better kneel, bitch’. Loki had loved it. While the water heated, Clayton picked up his own mug and rolled it over in his hands to look at the words printed on it.

_‘Badass walking’? More like ‘sexy ass walking’._

He closed his eyes for a moment and shoved away the memory. At the time the statement had made him roll his eyes in exasperation, but now it just made his heart ache. He harshly shoved the mug under the sprout and pressed the button.

“Are you even listening?”

“You’re bitching at me because I’m actually capable of feeling emotions and am trying to process the fact that he’s _fucking dead,_ which doesn’t work for you goddamned computer logic.” He clutched the edge of the counter with his fingers and rested his weight on his palms while his tail twitched angrily behind him.

“No. He was one of _my_ organics. While I’m incapable of feeling complex emotion like you, I still…Miss having him around. It’s emptier. My entire point is that the war isn’t going to come to a halt. You’re still needed. Thanos’ army is still out there and the others need all the people they can get.”

“They don’t have enough people. They’re just delaying the inevitable.” As quick as the anger had arrived, it vanished and left a sensation of emptiness.

“That’s why they need you.”

“No…They need an army.” He plucked up his coffee mug and walked back to the helm. Clayton had always been a tactician. When he bounty hunted, he did research on his target, studied their movements, and formulated plans based on the knowledge he gained…But in the case of Thanos, a being whose power and armies seemed limitless…Tactics would only go so far without the muscle and bodies to back it up. Still, Xena’s attempt at motivation had sparked a memory.

“Xena. You remember that planet…The one with the weird egg chamber?”

One of the monitors flickered rapidly, sorting through information until an image of a planet popped up. Trinity-571 was named for the triplet moons that circled it. While the planet was covered in jungle, it was unusual in that it had lower oxygen levels than what one would expect for such a green planet. Because of that, no one had really been interested in colonizing it. The planet had ruins of a long dead civilization and so the only ones interested in it were scavengers.

“That’s the planet that the Asgardians razed because of a hyper-aggressive species, isn’t it? The one that Loki called the Orussid?”

“Yeah. He said something about my bug half looking scarily similar to them and mom mentioned the eggs she tried stealing from there hatched, way back when…Which caused her to crap out weird things like me. I think there’s some sort of connection.” He sat down at the helm and started to bring up the navigation.

“What the hell are you planning?”

“When Loki and I visited the planet, we found the egg chamber and I felt the damn things reacting to him. They sort of ignored me, for whatever reason.” His fingers navigated through different screens as he plotted a course to the forgotten planet. The more he talked, the more the plan was coming together. It was a bit of a longshot, but it was all he had at the moment. He sure as hell wasn’t going to drag back to the Avengers since they were the one who insisted on sending Loki as a spy.

“Clayton…What are you planning.”

“They’re parasitic. They need host bodies to gestate. There’s millions of people in the galaxy who’re basically glorified trash. No one’s going to miss them.” He felt the floor vibrate slightly as the engines kicked on. It was an insane plan, but it was insane enough that it might just work.

“Just fucking spit it out.”

“I’m going to raise an army from the dead.”

Xena was silent for a long moment and he wasn’t sure if she was just trying to figure it out or if she was judging him. Likely a bit of both. “You’re going to set up a beacon to call in people and then expose them to the eggs, using them to gestate the Orussid. That’s…Actually kind of horrific.”

“Kinda, yeah. You said it yourself: there’s not enough people for the war. Thanos and his armies are just kinda steam rolling everyone. If it works, I raise an army. I fail, I get my death wish.”

“Clayton, no. You’re not thinking clearly. The Asgardians destroyed the Orussid for a reason. Do you really think it’s wise to revive a species that spread like a plague?”

“Yeah, well. The Asgardians are kinda pompous cocks.” He sighed and piloted the ship through a jump gate. “Besides, you saw the state I was in after my last relationship. You know how bad that was for me.”

“Yes, but…But that was different.” Despite having the information of the galaxy at her metaphorical fingertips, human emotion wasn’t something that Xena could understand very well.

“You’re right, it was different. That wasn’t my fault.”

Xena said nothing. If she did, it would just be stating the obvious. Finally, she made a sound akin to a sigh. Clearly, Clayton had already made up his mind and was hellbent on this. At this point, it was her job to ensure he didn’t get himself killed. “Very well. I’ll work on setting up a message to transmit.”


	2. Kneel, Bitch

Once they arrived on the planet, Clayton scouted out the egg chamber. There was only one way in, and one way out…And he’d had to trigger the door manually to get it to open and close. He was honestly surprised the damn thing still worked and activated it several times to sooth his concerns of accidentally trapping himself inside the chamber. When he was satisfied, he signaled Xena to transmit the message she had prepared. It was little more than coordinates and claims of fantastic treasures. Anyone who followed such a message wasn’t likely to be up to anything good.

Scans had indicated that there were about 500 eggs, and he assumed that he’d need slightly fewer bodies than that to account for some not hatching. From what he could tell, most of the eggs would; he could feel a faint presence radiating from them. Alive, somehow, but dormant. He perched himself above the door, hidden in the darkness, and waited.

It took several hours for the first ships to arrive, pirate crews…And a lot of them. Most left when they saw the ‘competition’, but some chose to investigate the egg chamber. Clayton could feel the eggs starting to wake up, and with some telepathic effort on his part, kept them slumbering. It was a bit straining to keep them all asleep while also keeping a mental tally of how many people there were. While he had hoped to hatch all the eggs in one go, that had been a bit ambitious. Instead, he managed about 90 people in the chamber. It’d have to do. Quite likely, there were more still in orbit who were waiting for the all clear from their crewmates.

With a grimace, he shut the door and released his hold on the eggs. The eggs, themselves, were a bit bigger than an ostrich egg, leathery, and in piles. Overall, they were kind of easy to miss as threats since they had a bit of a fossilized appearance. Within seconds, they began to hatch. Out of the eggs slipped wormlike creatures which flung themselves, with deadly aim, at the faces of their hosts. Upon contact, they wrapped part of their body around necks then forced the rest of themselves into mouths and down throats. It didn’t take very long for the screaming to stop and for the pirates to collapse.

He sighed and looked down at what he’d been holding: a necklace with the Imperial logo.

_Loki, are you humming the Imperial March?_

_I can’t help it. It’s catchy._

Loki had insisted on getting it for him after they’d binge watched Star Wars one night. He slipped the necklace back over his head and tucked it under his shirt before he hopped off the ledge he’d been perched on. After triggering the door mechanism, he started walking back towards the ship, his tail slowly swished behind him and his jaw firmly set. There was no turning back now.

Truth be told, he felt a bit disgusted with himself. After all, he’d just killed nearly 100 people. It had always been on the ‘to-do-list’ to raze the egg holding place to the ground because of what it contained…But that idea had just sort of gone out the window with Loki’s death. Now? All he really cared about was revenge. He returned to the shade that Xena provided and perched himself on a rock to wait. The bracelet on his left wrist chirped and he touched the button to activate it.

“Do you want me to continue broadcasting the message?”

“No, Xena. Turn it off.” After her acknowledgement, he rubbed his face and waited.

The sensation of a mind flickering into existence while another violently sparked into nothing drew him out of his thoughts. The Orussid. He was morbidly curious on what was happening inside the chamber, but remained on the rock. The sensation of the new minds dredged up unwanted memories. Loki had not only been capable of glamouring himself into looking like other people, but straight up shapeshifting. He had also had zero issue with presenting himself as either sex, which had resulted in some hilarious moments. Clayton snorted softly and looked down at the ground at the memory of his first time of finding a female Loki aboard the ship. He had thought Loki to be one of many nightly visitors who’d been brought aboard the ship. It had been an annoying and frustrating situation for him, but Loki had found the prank to be absolutely hilarious

Loki also had zero issues with having sex as a woman and did so as frequently as he had as a man. The massive interest wasn’t something Clayton could really grasp since his inclinations leaned towards not being interested in sex in general. Loki in turn, hadn’t understood Clayton’s disinterest in sex, either. Their mutual bafflement towards each other’s sexual habits had caused some minor issues, at first, but they had just sort of agreed to not really understand that and it worked out. Still, sex had happened between them. Maybe Loki had finally worn him down. Maybe he had finally warmed up to the idea. He still didn’t know.

As it had turned out, even when one is a hybrid freak such as Clayton, have sex enough times and something would result from it. It probably had helped that Loki had adopted the female form of…Whatever the hell Clayton was. Loki had decided to get adventurous, despite Clayton’s snarking of ‘the last time you did that, you crapped out a six-legged horse’. But Loki being Loki, wasn’t going to be told ‘no’. And then Loki got the surprise of being unable to shapeshift back. Neither of them had really expected it to happen since Clayton had just always ran with the idea of him being sterile.

But it had. Loki had taken to the idea better than Clayton had, but he warmed up to the idea in time. With both of them being telepathic, Clayton more so, they’d already started bonding with the baby over the months and were starting to look at redoing the spare bedroom. Then it happened: the baby’s mental print was gone…Loki miscarried a few hours later. Neither of them handled it well and both of them tried to cope in their own individual way. That’s how he found out that he wasn’t entirely sterile but his genetics were just the right amount of fucked up that anything he might happen to father likely wouldn’t survive long enough to be born. Both the loss of their child and that gem of information had strained their relationship a bit. They had both been still trying to work past the loss when Loki…

Clayton rubbed the palms of his hands into his eyes to fight against the burn of tears while he tried to push away the guilt he felt. He had felt guilt for being unable to father a child, which had been something that Loki had clearly wanted, but the guilt had been lessened with the knowledge that it was something he couldn’t change. That guilt was greatly surpassed by the inability of saving Loki. However, with his current emotional state? It was just another thing to pile onto the growing list of failures.

He remained perched on the rock for several more hours, and was usually lost in his own thoughts. Still, he kept a mental eye out on the Orussid. As more of them hatched, their minds spread out and joined with the neighboring alien. He ‘watched’ this as an outsider, with them unaware. Slowly, they began to form a hive mind. At first, it was a sea of mental shoving matches, and as each defeated their neighbor, they would find a new mind to battle. This continued on until one mind was deemed the strongest.

The first Orussid that stepped out of the cave wasn’t the strange creature he saw bursting out of someone's chest many months ago. That had been a four limbed, grub looking creature. This was an adult and it startled him at how similar he was to it from the waist down. Much like his lower half, it was covered in dark, matte black skin with digitigrade legs and a long, fluidly moving tail which culminated in a dangerous blade. Also like him, they had four long fingers and a thumb. Unlike him, however, was that the first and middle, then the ring and pinky fingers seemed to be joined together.

Also unlike him was that while his…Inhuman parts ceased at the waist and elbows, then merged into human parts, the Orussid were continuous. Although, their torso and head were humanoid…Sort of. He wasn’t entirely sure their head could be considered humanoid with the _face_. Instead of something human for a face, like most species in the galaxy…Their face was terrifying. Eyeless, a skull-like nose, and they seemed to have a perpetual grin that showed off predatory teeth.

Not to mention, the damn things looked to be a full foot taller than he was, which would make them seven footish…Since he was sixish. For all their fearsome appearance, they still moved unsteadily, much like spring colts still learning to walk who’d been released to pasture for the first time. They remained unaware of him and instead relayed information about the outside world to those still in the egg chamber. It briefly made him wonder if he’d made the right choice…But there was no turning back.

Despite being eyeless, the creature seemed to be confused and he felt that emotion radiate out to the others, even before they left the egg chamber. From what he could gather, they’d been expecting something else than ruins grown over by jungle. They slowly moved out of the egg chamber, exploring and relaying information. Finally, an unusually tall Orussid pushed its way to the front of the pack; this one had been deemed the leader due to having the strongest telepathy.

After he had waited for several more minutes, Clayton stood up and started walking towards them. So far, the plan had worked well. Now he just had to manage to get them to do what he wanted. He swished his tail and steeled himself for what might come. Should things go south, he figured he could take out a nice chunk of them before he fell. As a contingency plan, he’d told Xena to carpet bomb the place if he was killed. But…Rather than hostility, he sensed curiosity from the Orussid. They saw him as an oddity, similar to them but not. Even more confusing to them was that his mind was tightly shut to them.

Despite this, several of them tried to prob his mind and worm past his defenses. None of them managed and it only served to further confuse them. With the failure of the underlings, the leader stepped forward to meet him and he suddenly felt it trying to force him to bend to its will. Clayton had to admit that the creature wasn’t exactly a push over when it came to mental abilities, but he was stronger and he wasn’t about to fail now. He’d started himself on this path and he wasn’t about to stop. He rooted himself and pushed back. Hard. He wasn’t going to do that shoving match bullshit he’d seen them do amongst each other. No, he slammed himself into the mental wall the Orussid leader had. He felt his attack cause cracks to form and spiderweb out from the impact. Immediately, the other went on the defensive, trying to repair the damage.

Clayton ripped down the mental defenses and seized control of the creature’s mind, causing it to make a noise of shock. Then he bent it to his will and watched it lowered itself down to a knee, head bowed, arms at its side, tail still. In unison, the others behind it kneeled and bowed their heads. The hive was quiet with acceptance that they had a new leader, but remained confused on why they couldn’t feel his mind. When Clayton had started on this little quest of his, he hadn’t known they were a hive mind. Otherwise, he would have considered the plan a little but longer. Maybe. Possibly. Probably not.

Still, this had implications that he didn’t particularly like the sound of. For years, he had kept his mind closed to avoid hearing the thoughts of those around him when he went planetside. The sensation of so many thoughts bouncing around his head had been scary and something he had avoided as much as possible. Now, he was considering the notion of joining a hivemind. Desperate times…He slowly exhaled, released the former leader from his control, and closed his eyes before he connected himself.

The sensation of 90 other minds wasn’t exactly new; he’d heard the thoughts of many, many more when he lived in New York City after his telepathy first developed. The sheer shock of that had initially nearly caused him to kill himself because of how he hadn’t been able to cope or stop it…But this was so much different. It was a sea of emotions and thoughts and information. At first, he thought he was going to drown, but then he was able to pull himself to the surface and float atop it. He worried that his lack of experience with such a set up would be a detriment and weaken his ability to control them…The Orussid had apparently evolved to be in a hive mind from the start; he was human…ish and humans weren’t designed for it. Yet as he learned to navigate the hive, he found it was easier to go with it rather than fighting. If he fought, he’d sink, but if he flowed with it, he was able to float at the surface…Sort of.

The Orussid were curious about him. They recognized his mental strength and were even…Welcoming. They saw him as someone knowledgeable about the world when they had slept for so long and had suddenly looked to him to guide them. It was also clear to them that he was different and because of their curiosity, they kept trying to touch minds with him. It felt suffocating with so many trying to grab his attention at once and he violently pulled away from them like a wounded animal. The only one he’d been mentally ‘intimate’ with had been Loki, and that had only been during certain instances.

Clayton rubbed his face at their confusion. They didn’t understand why. Despite them being another race entirely, he still understood their language. The language of the mind wasn't words, but emotions, thoughts, and knowledge. So, he told them. Told them that he’d never done something like this before. Told them that he’d always been by himself his entire life, that he wasn’t used to being in a group. They acknowledged this and pulled away to give him space…Somehow. Rather than floating on top of the water, he suddenly found himself perched on a rock in the middle of an ocean of minds. They were still there and he could hear them, but it was less…Stressful. He was connected, still able to feel everything, but was able to tune it all out if needed. It was strange.

Once Clayton managed to root himself among the different minds, he found himself curious about the race he’d brought back from extinction. He knew very little about the race beyond what Loki had told him, and even then, the Asgardian hadn’t known very much about them. Once more, the Orussid were confused and this caused Clayton to wonder if he had missed something very important. Then, they suddenly hit him with…Memories. How?

The Orussid were ancient, created by a telepathic Celestial for war. They were bred to destroy, molded into the galaxy’s perfect killer, and capable of adapting to any situation. Not only had they been capable of sexual reproduction resulting in live birth, but also parthenogenesis which resulted in eggs capable of hatching at a later date when suitable hosts were found…And then cocooning where they directly changed a living creature into an Orussid. The latter two methods had been capable of bringing fresh genetics into the hive, and slowly but surely, it allowed the Celestial to continue to improve on the race. Adding to that, the hive mind allowed them to learn from each other. Skills and knowledge, turning them all into dangerous beings of war. So, they conquered and destroyed in the name of their creator.

This all fell apart when the Celestial died. A failsafe had been built into the Orussid: they needed a powerful telepath to manage and direct the hive. Without the Celestial imposing her will upon them, the hive crumbled. For a time, pockets of the Orussid existed, but they too faded away, leaving only one. They were lost without guidance, scattered, dying out, and soon very nearly extinct. By having a leader and then several sub-leaders, they had been able to skirt past the inherent limitations imposed by having a single leader, but this had only improved things by a small degree. Their hive was only a few hundred strong. So, they shifted from being warriors to drafting traders…Barely only able to scrape together enough to keep their numbers alive. However, the brightest among them began a project that took decades to complete.

Due to their traveling ways, they had been able to pluck up powerful telepaths from other races and introduce the genetics to the hive. Then they carefully selected the strongest telepaths that resulted and bred them together. It had turned into self-imposed selective breeding for species survival. If they did nothing, they would always be on the brink of extinction: one solid attack was all that would have been needed. Yet, their project was fruitful.

A queen, like no other. One who could bypass the inherent limitations on their race. With the telepathic Celestial dead, their once expansive hive had crumbled...And they sought to replicate that hive once more. Her telepathic abilities were unheard of among the Orussid. Between her strength and assigning numerous sub-leaders, their numbers expanded rapidly under her command. They called her Moranna, the Death Queen.

Their rapid expansion and subsequent takeover of numerous planets garnered them the attention of the Asgardians who waged a ruthless campaign against them. While the Asgardians were renowned for their skill in battle, the Orussid proved to be a deadly foe. Not only were their armor and skin resistant to weapons, their blood was acidic which prompted the Asgardians to forge weapons capable of resisting the corrosive nature of the blood. Compounding the issue, was that Orussid learned from the deaths of their kin. Still, the Asgardians proved to be successful after a long campaign.

Shortly before her death, Moranna produced several eggs that were hidden away so that her unique genetics wouldn’t be lost...And when she was finally killed, the hive fell apart and was reduced to a whisper of its former glory. As a last-ditch effort, the remaining Orussid females produced eggs and hid them on the Trinity-571 before the Asgardians could find the last of them. The memories ceased and the Orussid apologized that they couldn’t give him more information; their memories of what happened ended with the last egg being laid.

Clayton exhaled and opened his eyes, expecting that hours had passed…And yet, only minutes had gone by. That was the funny thing about minds: information could be instant. He had learned the entire history of a race in the span of about five minutes. For the time being, his curiosity had been sated, but the Orussid weren’t of the same mindset. They were still curious about him and how he came to be. One mind softly asked him why he looked the way he did. This prompted him to finally speak in words, rather than images and information.

_I don’t know._

Another mind gently reached out to him and presented the information of how to tap into genetic memory. As was clearly shown to him moments earlier, the Orussid rely on genetic memory to pass knowledge from generation to generation. The idea of looking into his genetics to find out about his history was a scary one. He had no idea what he’d find, if he’d even find anything at all, considering how messed up his genes were. Finally, he sighed and tapped into it. Initially, nothing happened, but then he found the Orussid memories. They were a complex spiderweb of millions of memories, and the sudden surge of knowledge nearly caused him to black out. Tactics, weaponry, and fighting…All unintended, but not unwanted. Vaguely, he felt hands reaching out to support him.

He found Moranna in the midst of laying her final eggs. The war against Asgard raged and the Orussid were on the losing end of things. It was a final attempt to continue the species with the hope that some would be able to escape the onslaught. Then the memories jumped to a human woman aboard a ship. A pirate ship. The sort who raided dead civilizations and sold the things they found. Her and the crew found Moranna's eggs many, many centuries after they were laid and thought them to be fossils that could be sold for a decent chunk of credits. Much like what had happened in the egg chamber, the eggs hatched and infected the crew. However, Moranna’s eggs weren’t perfect and much like their mother, were incredibly unique.

Rather than an Orussid forming, the egg larva changed the crew, and caused them to start mutating into Orussid. This caused the pirates to turn on each other as they tried to both reform the hive and determine who the strongest was among them. However, the one who infected the woman was...Flawed compared to the others. Rather than an Orussid forming or causing her to mutate, it merely rewrote her genetics: only her offspring would be affected.

Unaware of this, but aware that she was ‘spared’, somehow, she jettisoned in an escape pod after she disabled the ship engine. As she fell through the atmosphere, she watched the ship and rest of the crew break and burn up in the atmosphere of a planet they had been orbiting. It wasn't until he saw her meet young man he'd only seen in pictures hanging on the walls of his childhood home, did he realize that he was watching the memories of his mother.

The Orussid exploded into a flurry of mental activity at the information; Clayton hadn’t been aware that they’d been ‘watching’ the memories with him. They began to throw around the idea of him being designated ‘King’, but honestly, he didn’t care either way. He acknowledged the idea of be a military leader, but the notion of being crowned king was a bit much. It wasn’t something that interested him. Once the excitement died down a bit, another asked why he had returned to revive the race. While the question was simple, he hesitated at answering. It brought up too many still fresh wounds that he would have preferred to forget. Finally, he began to explain about the war, the death and destruction, how the galaxy was threatened by a madman…A madman who took away the only thing in the universe that had mattered to him.

Honestly, Clayton expected them to dig their feet in at the idea of only being revived from extinction to form an army in a broken man’s quest for revenge. A suicide mission disguised as a noble attempt at saving the galaxy. Instead of protests, they responded to him with a near deafening mental roar. It caught him off guard for a moment and then he realized that it wasn’t a roar. _It was a battle cry_. The mere idea of going to war had sent the Orussid into a mental frenzy of excitement. The excitement tempered slightly when one mind mentioned their lack of supplies. Another suggested that they could check the ruins for salvage. Stunned, Clayton watched the hivemind rapidly work out issues, come up with solutions, and delegate tasks among the different members of the hive. It had rapidly become clear on why they had been deemed so dangerous.

A few moments passed before the Orussid realized he had been watching their actions with a sense of bemusement. They collectively turned their attention to him in order to ask for his approval. Of course, Clayton did. They had just been so effective at coordinating that he hadn’t felt the need to interject. Still, since they had asked for his approval, he deemed it important to mention the landed ships and others still in orbit. With that information in hand, the Orussid dispersed to attend to their assigned tasks. Despite that, he was still able to feel them and coordinate as it was needed. With how efficient they were, he hadn’t needed to do very much.

While they worked, they questioned him about a name and title, as was custom for a leader. Clayton could only sigh since it was clear that they were hellbent on making him King. He supposed that it was only fair since he had, after all, basically raised them from the dead and made himself their leader. So, he mused on a name to give them. His initial thought had just been to say ‘Clayton’, but with Loki’s death, he doubted he’d got back to that sort of life. He really didn’t want to; it’d brought him too much pain.

All of his relationships had ended badly in one way or another, and he’d always said that if the one with Loki had ended on a bad note, that’d be the end of him…And unfortunately, it was over, just not in the way he’d expected. Well, he’d been right so many years ago: it had broken him. Since Loki’s death, it was rare that he didn’t wake up in the middle of the night with pain and agony that wasn’t his, the faded, heart wrenching hope that he’d arrive in time to stop it. No, his life as Clayton was over. The problem was, Clayton had never been creative with names. When he had bounty hunted, he just gave the name of some band he liked because he wasn’t dumb enough to use his real one. No one was familiar with earth culture, so no one had picked up on that. So, he gave the Orussid that name. It was likely the one he’d die under, but that was fine.

_Sabaton._

A name alone didn’t satisfy them. They wanted a title, too. Clayton didn’t see the point of it, so he simply told them to make one up; it didn’t matter to him. They pushed against the idea; titles were important in their culture. They signified importance and were given based on past deeds; it was unheard of for a leader to not have a title. Because they knew nothing of him, they couldn’t give him one that they’d find satisfactory. He knew what this meant: he’d have to share. Loki had learned early on that getting Clayton to share things about himself had been one of the most difficult things in the universe. He sighed and looked towards his ship for a moment. Then, he showed them.

He showed them the pain and heartache, the trauma and anger, the happiness and shy smiles. For a moment, the hive mind was silent as they were collectively lost in the stormy ocean of his memories. The Orussid shared in his emotions, the anger, the guilt, the grief, the fleeting moments of happiness. They understood why he fought, why he had done what he did. They latched onto his life as a soldier, a bounty hunter, and a warrior. How he always managed to escape death time and time again. Always at the brink, staring into the void, but never falling over the edge. They drew a name from it, not only because it encompassed him, but because it also represented them. Undying. The hive agreed on it and in unison, they crowned him.

King Sabaton, The Undying.


	3. War Drums

The longer Clayton hung around the Orussid, the more he realized that the Asgardians had been somewhat wrong about the race. Sure, they most definitely were bloodthirsty, aggressive, and ruthless…But they somehow managed to have a bit of…Nobility. He supposed that the Asgardians and Orussid were different sides of the same coin. Both were a warrior race who respected those with prowess in battle and respected those who could best them. The main difference being that Asgardians upheld honor on the battlefield. The Orussid only had honor amongst themselves and would do anything to win in battle.

Because the Orussid relied on genetic memory, they had a tendency to immortalize great warriors of the past. They carried their memories and strove to improve on the design, and went as far as post-humorously giving them titles. Miguv, the Unseen; named for his habit of using his telepathy to cloak himself from sight and one of the Orussid’s greatest assassins. Hequon, Bane of Asgard; before her death at the hands of the Asgardian King, she had killed numerous Asgardian generals.

As the Orussid mustered their forces and dusted off old armor, they watched Clayton reflect on his life with Loki. They saw the trickster god fight in the memories they were shown. Much like their declaration of Clayton’s leadership, they unanimously chose to give Loki a title and add him to their mental library of great warriors as well. Loki the Everchanging. When Clayton asked about the reasoning behind the name, they explained that they saw the ability to weave illusions and shapeshift as a great ability.

Truthfully, while Clayton appreciated the sentiment, it still caused him a stab of loss. Still, he imagined that Loki would appreciate it. Loki had always feared the idea of being forgotten.

_“There’s gotta be a reason why you’ve done so much shit.”_

_“I…Didn’t want to just be known as ‘Thor’s brother’. I was raised with the notion that we both had equal chances of becoming King of Asgard, but we both secretly knew it was always going to be Thor because he was the eldest.” Loki scoffed and looked away, “Then it came to light…I wasn’t an Asgardian. I was a Frost Giant, stolen away as an infant as nothing more than a political tool. A safe guard to prevent the Giants from posing a threat, ever again. I never had a chance to become King, all those years I had been told otherwise? Lies. Just **fucking lies**. So, I wanted to make a name for myself. I didn’t care how or why. Just…Something...So I wouldn’t be just a footnote in Asgardian history.”_

Truth be told, it was an empty gesture. The dead didn’t care about awards or titles given after death, such things were only to the benefit of the living. Still, the act helped to sooth some of the guilt Clayton felt, and that was the important thing. Now, Loki would never be forgotten; as long as the Orussid lived, so would his memory.

In a matter of weeks, the Orussid numbers had exploded. During the first few days after the initial batch had hatched, Xena lured the rest of the pirates in orbit down to the planet surface. Then, she started broadcasting the message again. While she didn’t exactly approve of Clayton’s plan, she had run the numbers. If the current rate of expansion continued, he would have an army capable of launching many pronged attacks on Thanos’ forces. By tying up the Mad Titan’s forces, it might just allow the Avengers an opening.

So, while the war raged on in another part of the galaxy, the Orussid built their forces. More living bodies were brought in: pirates, cons, and all manner of low lifes. When the supply of eggs was exhausted, the Orussid turned to other methods. There was no time for the females to lay eggs; not only did everyone have jobs, they needed more numbers and they needed them yesterday. Egg laying took time and resources. So, the turned to the third method: cocooning. It was crude and horrific, but it worked to bolster their numbers rapidly with minimal downtime. The process only took a day and the new Orussid were battle ready in two more. While the Orussid that resulted from the cocoons were smaller than the pure strained ones, they also carried traits of what they once were. So, it was seen as a benefit due to the introduction of fresh genetics into a stagnant genetic pool, and with it, knowledge.

By using this method, they were able to gain access to much needed supplies, armor, and ships. Armor was retrofitted to fit Orussid bodies, and Orussid learned to pilot modern ships. Not only had Clayton raised his army, he had also gotten them trained. Although, the training aspect had been made much easier by being part of the hive mind. The whole…Instant information transferring tended to help out a lot when trying to explain a concept.

During this time, he received several messages from Thor and Peter Quill, Starlord, but he purposely ignored the messages. It was partly their fault that Loki was dead. He supposed that he shouldn’t blame them as hardly as he did. Loki had volunteered to play spy, after all. He had been one of the few who could blend in and act as a spy and saboteur. Plus, Loki had pointed out that it wouldn’t be out of character for him to ‘switch sides’ upon seeing the Avengers losing. Clayton had been against the idea from the start. The mere notion of Loki playing spy had twisted his gut into an anxious mess, a feeling that only came after he woke up from a nightmare. Loki had insisted. Clayton still regretted not trying to talk him out of it more…But hindsight was always 20/20, wasn’t it?

With the army raised, armed, and aboard the fleet, he finally gave the order to leave for war. Not all of the Orussid were ‘enlisted’. Instead, he chose to leave some on the planet to continue rebuilding in addition to egg production. He had no doubt that there would be losses, and those losses would need to be replaced. Xena had demanded to be the flagship, and he had agreed without a second thought. The AI was capable of many things, and in a sense, she was his queen. Rather than being queen of the Orussid, she was queen of the fleet. She had her own little hivemind and was essentially the central hub control of all the ships. It allowed her to send and receive information, which insured that Clayton was always up-to-date on what was going on.

At first, they employed hit and run tactics on Thanos’ ships. The attacks were just probes to check for weaknesses. There was no intention to bring down the ships; it was only information gathering. A coordinated attack would have only alerted Thanos to there being another player in the game before Clayton was ready. Oh, he had a coordinated attack planned, he just wanted all of his cards in order before he gave the all clear to attack.

Once they had the information they needed, the fleet split up to locate the massive troop carrying ships. If those were destroyed, it would cause the most damage and put a slight kink in Thanos' plans. When all of his troops were placed, he ordered the attack. The Orussid ships struck, and they struck hard. In different places across the galaxy, the fighters uncloaked within milliseconds of each other and launched their attack. It was coordinated perfectly, and the carrier ships were destroyed. Those that happened to survive the onslaught were welcomed into the Orussid race…Willingly, or not.

The ships that were able to be salvaged were brought into the fleet. Those that weren’t flyable were gutted for supplies and those that were usable were cut off from Thanos’ fleet and drafted. The Orussid didn’t care: a working ship was a working ship. Xena had also noted that the ships had potential use in later missions, should Clayton decide to infiltrate. Overall, his army had more wins than losses.

That wasn’t to say that there weren’t losses. One of the strikes against the carrier ships had seen half the fighters delegated to that attack destroyed. But the Orussid pressed on; they gave their dead a brief honor and fought with renewed vigor. They fought for both the living and the dead. No longer were they a race who sought to conquer the galaxy. Now, they sought to preserve it from destruction.

While most of the campaign, so far, had been space battles, there had been a few planet side battles. Clayton hadn’t hesitated to fight alongside his soldiers. He wasn’t much of a military leader if he sat on his ass while his soldiers fought, bled, and died. He had redone his army early on and had swapped his usual mercenary armor for Orussid armor. It carried the same biomechanical look, but it was lighter and more flexible than any armor he had ever worn yet offered the same protection. He had kept his Predatoresque helmet, however. It maintained a link with Xena, who often played overwatch while he was on the battlefield and relayed him information on enemy movement. Besides all the usefulness of it, he really liked the look of it.

Overall, he easily passed for just another foot soldier with a fancy helmet. The one thing that set him apart from the others was the cape. No one else had one. At first, he had been against the idea, but Xena had insisted on it…Something about ‘aesthetics’. Damn AI. Still, he had allowed himself to be talked into the idea and had carefully picked out the colors for it. The outside was a dark grey, similar to the color of the armor…But the inside was a deep, emerald green. Loki’s green. It reminded him of why he fought, why he sent hundreds of people to their deaths to fuel the rebirth of an alien army.

The Avengers continued to try and contact him, and he ignored message after message. He didn’t want to rejoin them or fight alongside them again; he was content with waging his own personal war against Thanos. Although calling it a war was a bit much; it was pure revenge carefully disguised as a war. It was Xena who finally forced his hand.

One morning, Clayton dragged himself out of bed, intent on getting a cup of coffee before he read the morning reports. His tablet indicated several missed messages, but went he tapped the button to delete them, the tablet froze.

“They need your help.” Xena’s voice broke the silence of the ship.

“What else is new? You know the drill. Ignore the messages and trash them.” Clayton glared at the locked-up tablet before he set it on the table in favor of getting coffee.

“I’m serious. Just watch the message.” Rather than give him a change to protest, she simply played the message. The display staticed briefly before a tired and battle-weary Thor appeared.

“I’m not sure why I continue to send messages, despite my fear of you being dead. Perhaps I simply hope you’re still alive and have simply pulled away from everything. I know Loki’s death was harsh on you, perhaps more so than it was me. Still, my options are few. Clayton, we need you. We’re battling on Irosan, and if we lose the planet, we lose the war. Please, if you’re still alive…Muster what you can, I’m aware you have contacts strewn across the galaxy.” He paused and sighed, “This will likely be the last message because…Because I fear this may be my last battle.”

Once the message had ended, he glared at one of Xena’s cameras, “I assume the rest say the same thing?”

Xena made a soft noise of confirmation, “Starlord and Stark, but yes.”

Clayton sighed and took a sip of his coffee, then carefully weighed his options. As much as he disliked the idea of joining up with them again, he also knew that the three weren’t the types to beg for help if they could avoid it. That alone said things were shitty. Finally, he snatched up his cup of coffee and stalked to the helm.

“Xena, give me a list of the fleets closest to both my position and Irosan who aren’t in battle. I want them to meet me in orbit over the planet.” As he spoke, he started plotting the course to the planet. To his left, the requested information displayed on the screen followed by confirmations by the fleets that his order had been received.

“Should I send a reply to Thor?”

“No. If it’s as bad as he claims, I doubt he’ll have time to check messages.” He replied before he turned his attention to his selected fleets. It was harder to communicate at such long distances and it felt similar to yelling across a field…So rather than using telepathy, he wrote up orders and sent them to the ships in question. Each one sent the same reply.

_Lin sorka._

To war.


	4. By Any Means

As soon as they were out of the jump gate, his carrier ships deployed fighters to swarm Thanos’ troop deployment ships. Even as this went on, Clayton reviewed the surface scans he’d been sent to identify the best areas for the drop ships to land. “Xena, I want the troops dropped behind ally lines, but I want the fighters in front of the drop ships to lay down suppressive fire. Keep Thanos’ shit distracted so they don’t take pot shots. Once everyone’s touched down, takeout Thanos’ air support. I’m suiting up.”

Xena acknowledged his orders and sent them out to the other ships, leaving him to pull on his armor. He tucked his helmet under his arm and glanced around the armory at the weapons that covered the walls. Many of them had only been used once or twice in a battle situation. Finally, he pulled a rifle off the wall. It packed a punch and likely anything hit by it wouldn’t get up again.

“The Aslen? Excellent choice.”

Clayton snorted and walked towards the back of the ship, even as he felt the slight vibration that hinted they were entering the atmosphere. “Your murder boner is showing, Xena. I’m still convinced that I built a slightly psychotic AI. You did threaten to dump the ship’s oxygen a few times.”

“I was mostly joking.”

“..’Mostly’.” He shook his head and put his helmet on. It wasn’t anything fancy and simply had different filters to accommodate a number of lighting situations. The most important thing was the link to Xena’s systems. “You reading me?”

“Loud and clear.” Xena’s voice spoke in his ear, rather than from the ship. “90 seconds till drop.”

Already, he could feel the fear from his…Allies. With the hodge-podge of ships that comprised his fleet, it was unlikely they knew whose side he was on. He could faintly hear the repetitive sound of Xena’s turrets being fired. Then, he sighed and tried to calm his heart. He’d done something similar to this so many times before, but every time he had always felt anxiety surge up. It had nothing to do with fear, but more the sudden adrenaline that flooded his system.

In front of him the back of the ship opened, revealing the war torn ground below as they approached. The helmet filtered out the smell of dust and smoke, but he swore he could smell it anyway. Thanos’ troops slowly advanced while the remains of what the Avengers commanded were dug in defensively. In front of Xena, Orussid fighters had swarmed and were firing on the enemy. While he knew that some knew what Xena looked like, he doubted they’d recognize her now; she had insisted on a new paint job.

Much like the Orussid on the drop ships, he simply jumped out of the back of the ship. It wasn’t a long fall, perhaps twenty feet. The planet had slightly lower gravity than earth, so it wasn’t as if he would hurt himself. He stood up straight after he landed and automatically swung his rifle off his back to grab it easily if needed.

It was likely that the only reason him and his troops hadn’t been shot at was the fighters firing on Thanos’ army. He looked towards the oncoming enemy and frowned at ships starting to take flight in the distance. Absolutely not.

“Xena?”

“Yes?”

“See that big ass drop ship taking off?” Even as he spoke to her, he was sending order to his troops. In the time spent with the Orussid, he hadn’t really physically spoken to anyone but Xena. With them being telepathic, they didn’t often speak.

_Pair up; use your words. They have closed minds. Tiqi, on me._

Xena was silent for a half second, “Yes.”

“I don’t want to see it.” He swore the AI purred at his order and he glanced up as she started taking off. No doubt, he’d hear her front cannon spinning up soon.

As the Orussid organize themselves and performed last minute checks of weapons, a man approached him. Truth be told, Clayton had no idea who he was and didn’t immediately acknowledge him. There were much more pressing things that required his attention.

“Who are you?”

With a bland look hidden by the mask, Clayton looked over. He supposed that an answer was needed, and he really didn’t intend to let them know who he was in actuality. “We are the Orussid, and we have come to fight.”

His voice was modulated and mechanical thanks to his helmet; it only served to make the man’s uncertain expression worse. Clayton looked up at the tell-tale whine of Xena’s plasma cannon spinning up followed by the roar of her engines steadily picking up. A few heartbeats later and a white-hot volley of plasma rounds ripped through the incoming drop ship. Even with the added power from her engines, the force of the cannon pushed her backwards. Either way, the drop ship came crashing down. Seconds later, the cannon cut off and she had gone to join the aerial fray.

Around him, his soldiers had formed a line and the mental war cry had started to build into a frenzy. Rather than hundreds of different voices that chanted the song, it was a single voice comprised of hundreds. They were read to fight, kill, and die. While the humans and aliens around them were weary, the Orussid stood firm. With a single thought, they charged. The humans and aliens behind the army were let stunned, but then scrambled to follow.

Thanos’ foot soldiers weren’t much of a match for the seven-foot-tall Orussid who wielded exotic weapons in conjunction to blaster rifles, claws, and tails. Many of their enemy died within seconds of being crashed into by the Orussid. That wasn’t to say that the Orussid were invulnerable to damage. As Clayton weaved his way through the enemy, he saw many of his soldiers fall. One of them, aware he was going to die from his injuries, flung himself into a group of foot soldiers with a bellow. Then, he slit his throat; the spray of acid blood yielded screams of agony.

Rather that staying as cohesive units, the Orussid split off into pairs in order to become twins of destruction. Clayton had adopted this method readily. With how they used their tails as weapons, staying close together only increased the risk of friendly fire. His partner, Tiqi, was a tall female who wielded a spear with destructive skill. Her movements were an intricate dance of jabs and thrusts, ducking and spinning. Many fell to her spear. Clayton had no shortage of targets, himself. His rifle packed a bunch, blowing holes in his enemy at the cost of a massive bruise on his shoulder. Even with the recoil suppressant installed, the rifle still slammed into his shoulder with each shot. Still, it made quick work of the enemy soldiers.

Suddenly, something exploded and Clayton found himself on the ground. It took him a moment to come to his senses, even with the sound of a nearby roar. He touched the left side of his head and winced at the ringing in his ear. No doubt, he’d be feeling that later. He climbed to his feet and looked around, still dazed. A distance away was a blue behemoth with cybernetics down its spine. It roared again and tore its way through the destroyed buildings, hell bent on some unknown goal.

He picked up his rifle and started jogging towards where he could feel his partner. Something felt…Wrong. She was alive, but…Clayton found her half crushed by rubble, still alive, but not for long. He crouched down next to her, memories of his time in the Middle East began surging up. She gestured at her spear.

_Spear. Kill the beast._

_I will._

Satisfied that she’d be avenged, she clawed her throat with her unpinned arm and he felt her mind go dark. He had felt many of his soldiers die already, and it hadn’t been nearly as bad as Loki’s death. It was akin to a lightbulb that suddenly burned out. Bright one minute, gone the next, and it only left the vague feeling of something missing. He stood and walked to the spear to pluck it up. Likely, it was the only way to kill the rampaging beast. It seemed impervious to blaster fire due to armor...But armor always had weak spots. He slung his rifle over his back and started towards where he could hear the behemoth rampaging. The foot soldiers that tried to stop him were telekinetically flung away as he tried to figure out a way of killing the beast.

Up. He needed to be up. With the spear held by his bruised arm, he started climbing up the wall of a ruined building. Not only did it give him a good vantage point, he let him see how the battle was going. Still…He focused on the beast. For now, it was staying in one spot as it tried to rip into a downed ship. He ran along the top of the rubble and jumped from building to building, along the tops of walls and over the charred remains of ships.

Clayton clutched the spear; his pathway was rapidly coming to an end and he only had one shot to get this right. Good thing that was all he needed. He leapt at the last moment and brought his legs forward to dig into the beast’s armor when he landed. The only thing he could do was _fucking pray_ no one shot him. He landed harshly on its back and his breath was knocked out of his lungs for a brief moment. Clayton dug the claws of his toes in to keep himself from being shook off when the creature took notice of him.  No longer was the behemoth interested in the ship, it found a new hatred for the small thing that clung to its back.

He scrambled up, trying to keep both a solid grip while also avoiding the swipes from the beast. Still, he managed to find a perch on its upper back where he slammed the spear down near its neck where the armor met flesh. The spear drove down deep, and he forced it down until it hit the heart. Then, he pulled the spear back and shoved it back down again, and again, and gain. In a weird way, it reminded of trying to drive a t-post into the ground.

The behemoth collapsed, nearly throwing him across the front of the downed ship. He left the spear lodged in the neck of the thing and climbed down to help the pilot out of the ship. Starlord. The infamous outlaw didn’t care that his rescuer pulled him out of the ship with blood slicked hands, he just looked at the dead beast with relief.

“Thanks, I thought that was it.” Quill sighed and looked to the…Whatever the hell his rescuer was and squinted at the helmet. That seemed familiar…Before he could speak, his arm had been grabbed and he was being pulled off the ship.

“No time to talk. They’re trying to scramble more air support. Don’t want to be in the open.” From what Clayton had been told by Xena, their numbers were spread too far and too thin, with injured who needed tended to. While Thanos’ army was on the run with the death of the beast, that wasn’t something that would last long. Above them, the Orussid ships and Xena gave chase after the runners to try and reduce their numbers as much as possible.

The soldiers returned to the camp, with the uninjured helping the injured back. It was clear to Clayton that there was plenty of tension about the Orussid still, but the fears seemed to have been lessened. However, he couldn’t help but be relatively unthrilled with how many eyes turned to him, but he supposed that it wasn’t entirely unexpected. Much like his own soldiers, he bore the wear of battle. His armor was covered in mud and blood, his helmet bore a new gouge mark, and he walked with a slight limp while he tucked his right arm close to his side.

While his soldiers were done for the day, his work wasn’t. Since it was clear that he was the leader of the little shebang, he was invited to join the rest of the major players to discuss what to do next. Clayton mostly remained silent since it was primarily talking about losses. Although, when the topic turned to the concern of Thanos’ army receiving reinforcements, he spoke up.

“That’s not a concern. Prior to drop, we destroyed the fleet carrier ship in orbit. My own carriers report no other reinforcements.”

Several pairs of eyes focused on him and it was clear that they were still uncertain about him. Grateful for the help, yes, but not trusting. For Clayton, that was perfectly fine with him and he continued speaking.

“Thanos’ carrier ships are heavily fortified, but we’ve discovered weak points.”

Stark stared at him suspiciously, “Call me paranoid, but I don’t trust someone who won’t show his face.”

“Trust me or not, I don’t care. The way I see it though…I lost a number of soldiers helping you. So, you could at least pretend to hear me out…But if you don’t want my help, I can just pack up and leave.”

Stark pressed his lips into a tight line. He did like the fact that they had survived this battle but was still very wary of the help that had arrived. When the small datapad he’d been holding suddenly chirped, he looked down and tapped something on it. Instantly, a holograph of a fleet ship popped up with information on the different weak spots. He looked up to stare at the alien leader in mute surprise.

“We have technology you don’t.” Clayton would have been a liar had he tried to claim that he didn’t sound smug. Bless Xena and her technological skills.

“I need to look this over.” Stark murmured as he thumbed through the information. The data held schematics, shield frequencies, and all manner of information of strategic importance. While it wouldn’t win the war, alone, it would give them more of an advantage than what they’d been having so far.

“Look, I’m sure we’d all love to keep bitching at each other, but I’m beat. Can this wait till morning?” Peter finally spoke up. His comment was met by quiet agreement. Everyone was tired, worn out, and several of them had injuries that needed to be tended to.

Once the meeting was over, Clayton walked to the camp the Orussid had set up a short distance away. It had been made away from the main one, mostly to help ease tensions. Besides, it wouldn’t do for someone to try and help an injured Orussid…Acid blood and all. Xena had landed and so that was where he headed. He had his own injuries to deal with and wanted to get some rest. The bruise on his shoulder was nasty, ugly, and he was certain it’d be causing him unending grief in the morning. As he gingerly shed his armor, he swore he heard a familiar voice. Clayton paused to listen, but when he didn’t hear it again, he pushed the thought out of his mind and continued what he’d been doing.

Unlike most days, he took a cold shower to help with his various bruises. While it left him feeling chilled, it did help out with the swelling. After he ate dinner, he settled down in one of his hammocks, curled up in a blanket and with an icepack on his shoulder while he reviewed updates. A noise from downstairs caught his attention and a quick check with his troops told him that it wasn’t one of them. This caused him concern that it might be a straggler from Thanos’ army. Clayton untangled himself from his blanket and plucked up a pistol on his way downstairs.

He hadn’t entirely known what to expect. A soldier from Thanos’ army, maybe someone from the Avenger’s side of the camp. What he hadn’t expected was Loki standing there, alive and well.


	5. Second Chances

Clayton stood there and stared at Loki, unsure if he was imagining things, if his mind finally broke, or if the Asgardian was actually there. The man had his characteristic smug half smirk and then slightly raised his arms as if to say 'here I am'. Yet, Clayton remained rooted where he was; all he could do was gawk. All the thoughts that had been bumping around his head minutes earlier had vanished.

Since Loki’s death, he had mulled over past events, replaying them in his mind to try to figure out how he would have done them differently. Finding Loki alive had been another scenario he had spent considerable time thinking over. In his mind, he had planned out what he'd say or do for a number of situations. Now that he was actually faced with it? Everything fell away and his mind blanked on what to do. So, he just stood there, not even capable of forming a single word to say. He felt Loki _die_. How was the man alive?

Loki finally sighed and dropped his arms to his sides, “You can be a real idiot at time.”

It wasn’t an insult, but a gentle admonishment. It was only when Loki hugged him that Clayton snapped out of his shock. Without a moment longer of hesitation, he buried his face in the crook of Loki’s shoulder. He still had no idea if he was dreaming, hallucinating, or if it was the real deal. It felt real. He could smell leather under the scent of smoke; could feel the muscle moving as Loki pulled away to examine him.

“I felt you die.” Clayton’s voice was tight and hoarse. While he wanted to believe that Loki was back, a part of him was still in heavy denial.

“I did. They used one of the stones…Thor insisted.” Loki reached out to touch a bruise that had formed on the side of Clayton’s face.

He tilted his head away from the touch on account of it being tender. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

“We have! Your fucking dumb ass ignored our calls. We were starting to think you were dead…Especially when _I_ couldn’t contact you.”

Clayton looked away at this news and mentally kicked himself. Hindsight was always 20/20, and that phrase kept coming back to bite him in the ass. Still, he was happy to have Loki back. He looked up when an Orussid boarded the ship to see what the telepathic mess coming from their leader had been about. Upon seeing Loki, it began to excitedly jabber telepathically, but then it tilted its head in confusion when it was merely stared at in confusion.

_Use your words._

The Orussid glanced between them for a moment before it spoke, with difficulty. “Loki, the Everchanging returned!”

With obvious confusion, Loki looked between the two before he focused on Clayton and repeated the phrase, questioningly. It was pretty obvious that he wanted answers and Clayton could only look away and make a slight laugh.

“So…About that. You know that I kiiiiinda don’t take loss well and well, you know that planet with all the weird eggs? I pretty much just went and revived them and got crowned king after it turns out that I’m more or less some weird descendant of one of their last queens….Aaaand then I might have started waging war against Thanos…”

Loki just stared at him for a moment, “What the actual fuck, Clayton.”

“Well, I mean…You always wanted to be King, so…Surprise?”

“No…I literally mean it. What the actual fuck. How did you manage to even get enough bodies to do that?” Loki seemed to be half surprised and half intrigued at the entire notion.

“Xena broadcasted the coordinates and a message talking about stuff. Pirates came in droves, and..Well.” Clayton shrugged. “I sort of dove in headfirst.”

“No, shit. How do you keep them under control?” Loki peered at the Orussid in front of him and noted the similarities and differences between it and Clayton.

“They’re a hivemind. It…Took some getting used to. It’s weird but it works.”

This caused Loki to sharply turn his head back to Clayton, “How many?”

“Uh.” Clayton made a slight laugh. “I lost count at 600?”

Loki murmured something softly and then sighed. For a moment Clayton was scared that the path he’d taken would be too much. He knew it’d be considered abhorrent by many. At this point, the Orussid side eyed them and chose to slink out of the ship.

“I’m not sorry for what I’ve done. I…” Clayton cut himself off and sighed. Sharing how he felt had never been easy, even with those he had gotten close to. “I felt you die and a part of me did too. I barely survived. Either I did something, or I completely unlocked Xena, found myself a nice quiet planet and blew my brains out.”

“I’m not upset.” Loki spoke softly. It was obvious to him that Clayton was being defensive about the entire deal. “I was more concerned about it straining you since you’ve had trouble with hearing people’s thoughts in the past.”

…Oh. Clayton looked away, feeling guilty over his earlier statement. “It’s…It’s been a long day.”

“I can tell: you look shitty.”

The Asgardian was offered a slight smile before Clayton gestured for him to follow. He turned and pulled himself up to the second level of the ship…With some difficulty. Loki, meanwhile, simply climbed up using the handle holds.

“What’s wrong with your arm?"

“Bruised up my shoulder with one of my rifles.” Clayton glanced at Loki for a moment.

“Place hasn’t changed much since I’ve been gone.” Loki wandered to the table to examine the armor that sat on it.

“Xena? Lock up the ship.” As soon as he was certain that the loading ramp was closed, he grabbed Loki’s arm and shoved him against the wall. The other man made a noise of surprise which was quickly muffled with a kiss. Clayton pressed himself against the other and pinned Loki's arms against the wall. When he broke the kiss, Loki grinned.

“ _Happy_ to see me, hm?”

“Shut up and get your fucking pants off.”

His demand was met by a devil may care smirk and a purred, “Gladly.”

It took a few moments longer, but soon he had a leg wrapped around his waist and fingers digging into the sore muscles of his shoulders. He didn’t care. What mattered was the side of Loki’s neck and the sounds the man made while being pinned against the wall. Somehow, they made it from the living area to the bedroom.

The ship had been quiet for months at this time of night, but tonight the silence was broken by the sounds Loki made and by Clayton’s tail rhythmically thumping against the floor. As spontaneously as it had started, it came to an end, and left the two tangled together. Clayton shifted onto his side, rested his head on Loki’s shoulder, and wrapped an arm over the man’s waist to pull his torso close; Loki had his arm wrapped around his shoulder.

For several minutes, he simply listened to the other’s slow heartbeat with one ear, and the life support systems cycling with the other. It was a position he’d been in numerous times before, and he’d taken it for granted. He hadn’t realized how important it was until it had been taken away. For the moment, the battle that still raged seemed distant and unimportant, but he knew that he’d have to deal with it when the morning arrived.

“Promise me…You won’t go off and play spy again. Stay beside me and fight. I won’t be able to deal with it if something else happens to you.”

“I promise.”


End file.
